Ergo Sum Lord Voldemort
by Emaria Borg
Summary: The story of how Tom Riddle became Lord Voldemort
1. Chapter 1

** I do not own the rights to Harry Potter, the names and original ideas belongs to J.K Rowling.**

Chapter 1

Westchesterton, 1864

The deserted streets were covered in water and dull singing came from a distant pub. A dark, male figure emerged from one of the dark street corners making its way towards the orphanage with resolute, determined steps. He was covered in a big, green, hooded velvet-cloak, leather-boots and in his left hand was a silvery walking-stick. The face of the man was completely covered by dark shadows.

A couple were walking on the other side of the street, talking and laughing heartily, oblivious to the figure on the other side, not knowing it was looking right at them, watching them as they passed by. For a short second they both stopped, as if they had seen or heard something that startled them, but started walking again. They kept on walking and as the couple disappeared around the corner the figure fixed his eyes on the orphanage again and started walking towards it.  
It was an old building, a former asylum, used in the old days for lunatics and murderers. It was now only appropriate that they would have the town-lunatic, Mrs Mond, running the orphanage. The figure, walked slowly up the steps of the orphanage, the heavy rain made everything slippery and wet, despite that he seemed to be completely dry. The man raised the walking-stick to the big wooden-door, and tapped it two times before a small hatch in the door opened and two hazel eyes stared back at him. They tried to look past him, as if to see if he had brought company, but soon fixated her vision back on the man.

"Oh, it's you, well come on in sir, better not be standin' out in the rain gettin' all wet", the eyes said.

The door swung open and the cloaked figure stepped inside, took off the cloak, and put it on a chair near the door. A man in his sixties was revealed. He had short, gray hair and gray, stale eyes that was gazing through the room, trying to fix his eyes on something. The door slammed shut behind him and a short, plump woman with auburn hair about to turn all gray, looking unattended stood in front of the him. Even though she was only half his length, there was something about her appearance that made him feel very uneasy.

"Would ya like a cup o' tea sir, or some gin perhaps?" she asked smilingly, with a voice most enthusiastic.  
The man turned around and started walking towards the open fire in the lobby, and then began to walk about the room. It was the most peculiar room, for not a single piece of wallpaper could be seen because of all the portraits of people. So the man assumed they must be related to Mrs Mond or the estate, but he was looking for something else.

"No", he said without looking at her, "no I think I better not".

Her smile turned into a frown and she now knew he meant business, the reason for which he had come. So she slowly walked over to him, stopped when she could smell the vague scent of cologne, and then she too began to look at the pictures. The fire was making angry noises as water dripped from the man's damp leather-gloves – it made her eye twitch.

"Aye sir these are all former lunes I'm afraid, I found 'em in the attic when I was lookin' for me cat", she laughed uncertainly, "you sure you don' want anythin' to drink sir?"

He continued to stare at one portrait in particular, a portrait of a man with a long white beard, a crooked nose and kind blue eyes. It was as if he tried to lure the portrait into moving, forcing the man to let out a breath, a sigh. But the portrait stayed still during this entire trial, and only after the stranger had moved away from the painting, did he speak again.

"Could you tell me who's in that portrait?", he asked while staring at the carpet. Mrs Mond kept looking at the painting and she tried to remember if this was one of her relatives, without any luck. She was feeling comfortless and before she could prevent herself from doing so, she had started biting her nails. She took a few steps forward, and was now standing so close to the man that she could practically feel the wetness, radiating from his clothes.

"I'm afraid not sir, I don' know any of these but I always introduce him as my uncle Charlie when I have families over". She spoke directly do his ear as if she was trying to tell him a secret.

The man raised his head and took a long, last look at the portrait before moving on to the chair in the corner where he sat down. He was worried about a possible follower, and that was the last thing he needed tonight. He glanced out of the window, down to the streets he had crossed only minutes ago, without seeing anything out of the ordinary. The thought of maybe being followed reminded him of his reason for coming to the oprhanage at all.

"The boy will be delivered tomorrow night, this time. You will make sure that he speaks to no one and that no one speaks to him, is that understand?" he requested this without any hesitation and without waiting for her to reply, he spoke again; "You will put him in a room alone, place him far away from the others".

At these last words Mrs Mond shrugged and stared at the old man, she was getting a nasty feeling and wanted the man out of the house as soon as possible. She might not be completely sane herself but she could tell when something was wrong with other people, and something was clearly and utterly wrong with this man. But the last remark about the boy made her curious, and her curiosity was stronger than her feelings about this man.

"I will do as you ask sir, what good will it do the boy might I ask?"

The man looked straight at her, his cold, gray eyes fixed on hers and he slowly rose from the chair, walked over to the spot where she was standing, kneeled in front of her, and said;

"You will do as I ask, for the greater good".

With these words the man stood up, revealing his full length, took a few long steps to the door, without putting the cloak back on, he went out the door, slamming it shut as he did, leaving Mrs Mond speechless. Not before the rain drowned out the last steps of the stranger, did she let out her breath. She went to her room, pulled out some papers from a drawer and looked at a picture of a seven year old boy with the same cold facial expression as the man had had. The boy was scrawny and his clothes moth-eaten, and this vexed the lady as she distinctly remembered the man wearing nice clothes.

She didn't pay the uniform closer attention but rather looked at the birthcertificate under the photo, nothing out of the ordinary; healthy, strong, smart... This confused her more than anything, and while closing the files she looked up to the painting again.

"Tom Riddle, what can possibly be wrong about you?"


	2. Chapter 2

** I do not own the rights to Harry Potter, the names and original ideas belongs to J.K Rowling.**

Chapter 2

After weeks of hard rain and strong winds, the sun had finally decided to break loose from the grasp of the dark clouds. For the orphans of Westchesterton, this was perfect since they had wished for the sun to come out on this particular day.

This was the first time the children visited the countryside. Their new Head Matron, Mrs Cole, had promised them a nice day away from chores, and the dull hallways of the orphanage. Mrs Cole was the replacement of the late Mrs Mond, who had passed away under strange circumstances. She had been found, by some of the oldest children, in the kitchen. Pale as snow, with her eyes widened in terror, and her lips gently spread. She had been at a seemingly good health, and it appeared as if she had simply dropped dead.

Despite the tragic occurrence, the children of the orphanage seemed to have adjusted to Mrs Cole really well; they all actually seemed to be very attached to her. All except one...

"Come on, Amy", yelled a dark-haired boy, "I want to show you something".

The girl, Amy, followed the dark-haired boy to the lake, but stopped when she got close to the steep end of the cliff. Close behind her, another boy followed.

"Amy, don't be afraid, nothing can happen while I'm here", he said reassuringly to the girl. He walked up to her, and took her hand, at the same time as the dark-haired boy showed up next to them. "You can hold mine too", he grinned.

Together, the three children climbed down the wall of the cliff, high above the water. Where tall waves struck the rocks. The dark-haired boy kept going further down, and the others followed him closely. At last they reached the bottom of the cliff. There, a big hole gaped open, letting water flow into it, creating a wide brook.

"Are we supposed to be in here?", asked Amy, who was now in tears.

"Don't be such a baby, Amy", the dark-haired boy said. His attitude appeared to have changed, and he no longer had the same tone when he spoke to her. "We need to get further in."

The other two children, were too afraid of objecting at this point, so without any more questions, they followed him into the dark cave.

As they walked further, and further in; the cave became darker and darker. The waves made echoing sounds as they hit the rocks, and long stalagmites hung from the cave-ceiling. But what made the children stay quiet was the thought of possible bats sleeping in the darkness. Mrs Mond had told them all sorts of stories about bats; how they sucked the blood out of your neck at night, and how they transformed into people.

Suddenly, the dark-haired boy stopped.

"Tom, what's wrong?", the girl asked, "is it time to go back yet?".

But Tom just stood there, quietly and still. Until he raised his right arm and touched the darkness. They could hear him hit something – a wall. All of a sudden, he turned around.

The expression that was spreading across his face was not the one of a normal child. His mouth portrayed the emotion of happiness, with a wide smile. His eyes displayed the feeling of hatred, and he kept them fixated on the other boy.

"Tom, I think it's time we left", the boy started saying, "Mrs Cole is probably wondering where we are and I am getting really hungry".

"Where you are going you won't need to think about food anymore, Dennis", Tom said coldly, still staring at Dennis. "In fact, you won't even have to think at all".

All of a sudden, Dennis started screaming. It was not the scream of fear or sadness, or even hunger – it was the scream of pain. Bumps started appearing on Dennis' forehead. Then his cheeks, and then his entire skull. When they had grown to the size of a meatball, they started to open. Blood started to run out of the open wounds from the bumps, and Dennis tried to cover them up with his hands to stop the blood from protruding from his head.

Amy had been screaming ever since the bumps started to appear, and tears were pouring down from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks and then onto the already wet ground. Tom turned his gaze to her and took a step in her direction. He grabbed her hair while he smiled at her.

Between the sobs, Amy coughed. First, they were small coughs, but then they became worse, until she coughed so hard something landed by her feet. It was a beetle. She looked down at the beetle and then started crying even more, at the same time as she was coughing up more insects. The coughing grew so intense that she fell to her knees. Before whatever was inside her appeared in front of her aching body, she heard Tom laugh in the background. She also heard Dennis scream and cry; still trying to cover up the wounds.

Then, it appeared. Her body stopped shaking for a short moment, before it started to cramp up. A black mass now lay on the rock, by her shaking hands. It was moving. Before she could make out what it was, it split up into hundreds of black insects flying around her. But they weren't just terrorizing _her_.

Dennis had pulled his shirt off and was now using it to keep the blood from coming out. However, the blood-stained shirt did not stop the insects from crawling into the open holes. In the moment of panick, he saw no other choice than to jump into the water.

It was cold, colder than he ever imagined it to be. When he broke the surface it felt as if a thousand daggers where pressing their blades into him, and when he resurfaced, he took a deep breath before going under water again. In the short second before diving back down, he thought he had heard someone call his name. A female voice. A woman. Mrs Cole.

He then resurfaced again. Yes, there it was. The voice, and it was Mrs Cole.

Dennis looked over where he knew Tom would be standing, but he wasn't there.. Only Amy was there, kneeling by the rocks. He yelled back to Mrs Cole, to help her find him.

"Oh, children, what were you doing down here?", she cried, "you could have gotten drawn out by currents or fallen down and hurt yourself!"

She helped him up from the water, and his first thought was to feel his head. The bumps were gone and no more blood was running down his face. He looked over at Amy and she seemed to have stopped coughing. But where was Tom?

Mrs Cole helped the children back up to the top of the cliff where the other orphans were waiting with their lunch-packs. Among them sat Tom. Like nothing had happened, he gazed out over the edge, to the sun. Then he turned to the children and Mrs Cole.

"It's not warm enough for a swim today, Dennis", he said calmly.


	3. Chapter 3

** I do not own the rights to Harry Potter, the names and original ideas belongs to J.K Rowling.**

Chapter 3

"In all the years Tom's been here, he's never once had a visitor", Mrs. Cole's elderly, sweet voice said, as she was escorting a tall man up the stairs of the orphanage. Every step caused the stairs to give out tired noises, from all the years of people running up and down.

The man that Mrs. Cole was currently escorting upstairs, wore a dark-green trenchcoat, with a hat of a matching green color, along with black, polished shoes. He also had a long, gray beard, that was tied with a band at the end. Above the nose; two, kind, blue eyes rested.

Mrs. Cole reached the top of the stairs and continued, with tired legs, to the left where she followed a long, narrow corridor, until she stopped. They had arrived at the door at the far end of the corridor, where everything seemed to be completely quiet. They stood still for a few seconds, before Mrs. Cole raised her right hand an gently knocked on the door. There was no answer. She knocked a second time and followed with; "Tom, dear, are you in there?".

The door opened, and a little boy stood in the opening, looking up at the Head Matron and the male stranger. He was no older than eleven, but had an expression that proved him to possess maturity way beyond his age, which caused him to look very bored. As he was holding the door, Mrs. Cole moved aside, so the man could step forward.

"Hello Tom", he said, while reaching out his hand, " my name is Albus Dumbledore, and I would like to have a little chat with you". His hand stayed empty, as the boy didn't reach out to shake it. He retracted it, while giving Mrs. Cole a curteous smile with a nod. At this signal she left the two of them alone. Tom turned around and walked inside the room, leaving the door open, thus inviting the, seemingly friendly, stranger in.

The boy sat quietly on his bed, with his legs dangling from the side of it, while looking down on his hands. Albus Dumbledore entered the room, with his kind eyes looking at the boy, he too, sat down on the bed. After a few seconds, the boy finally spoke.

"You're the doctor, aren't you?", he started, "she wants me looked at".

"No Tom, I'm a teacher, at a school for gifted young men and women, like you and me", Dumbledore replied, "it's called Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry".

At the last words, Tom turned his eyes on Dumbledore for the first time. Only, this time, the mature expression was gone. It was now replaced by the look of curiosity – the look of a child. But the moment of curiosity soon vanished, and Tom's face quickly turned back to boredom.

"You're a wizard?", he asked, while turning his gaze to the rain hitting the window, "prove it".

Suddenly, the cabinet in the small bedroom caught fire. Tom immediately turned his eyes to the cabinet and stood up, while gaping at the event taking place before him. The flames reached all the way from the floor of the cabinet to the ceiling, where they seemed to stop without causing neither the floor nor the cabinet or ceiling any damage – they weren't even hot. In the midst of all this, a loud clonking sound could be heard from the cabinet.

"I think there's something in there trying to get out", Dumbledore told the boy, and they both walked over and opened the cabinet-door.

On the floor, a little tin-box was jumping up and down, causing the noise. Tom reached down and took it out, walked over to the bed and sat it down. He opened it, and in it were some pictures, a ring, two necklaces, a small broach and a little tin-soldier. When he had opened the box and revealed the treasures within, he walked over to the window and looked out again.

"Stealing is not accepted at Hogwarts, Tom", Dumbledore said while closing the lid to the box. He reached for his coat and the hat, and held them in his arms. Before he turned to leave, he made a little jump; as if he'd forgotten something. "I almost forgot, you'll need this". From one of his coat-pockets he took out a small envelope with emerald letters with his name and adress on it. "That is if you _want_ to go to Hogwarts", he said smilingly.

Tom turned around and gazed up on Dumbledore. For a few seconds they both just stood there, looking at each other, until Tom finally gave off a tiny nod, and then turned back to the window.


	4. Chapter 4

** I do not own the rights to Harry Potter, the names and original ideas belongs to J.K Rowling.**

Chapter 4

_Empty, quiet hallways. Flickering lights and rain hitting the windows; the perfect set-up. Tonight is the night for the deed. Tonight...someone is going to die. _

"Kill, kill kill". A hoarse, hissing voice was running through the walls of Hogwarts. Hidden by a thick barrier it slithered around unnoticed, unharmed and murderous. From the long fangs a toxic poison dripped, and left a trail of drops on the cold stone, but the poison would not be used; it was not necessary for this task.

There. It could smell the boy who was not too far away. The boy who was wandering around by himself in the corridors. The boy who knew too much for his own good. The boy who was going to die.

Meanwhile, Tom Riddle hid in the dark shadows, waiting for the murder to be done. From the darkness he watched as ghosts and a few people walked by, like a bird watching its prey. When he looked at them, he already saw them dead. After all, one quick motion with his wand and a silent incantation and they would drop dead on the stone-floor. But that would be radical, it was also not according his plan to do such a thing.

When the corridor seemed empty, he made his way from the shadows to the other side of the hallway where he entered the girl's lavatory. It was also emtpy, and silent except for the faint sound of a leaking faucet.

He walked over to the faucets, and stopped in front of the one in the middle that was dripping.

"_Open_", he said in a snake-like manner. He took a step back as the faucets rearranged in order to create a hole in the ground and a staircase leading down into the dark pit.

He made his way through the rotting carcasses in the crypt as well as the big flakes of snake-skin drying on the ground. At the end of the crypt he faced what seemed like a solid wall, except for a heavy metal-door with a large emblem resembling a snake. Once again he whispered "_Open_". The door let out a loud creak as it slowly opened revealing another room. He continued in to the second room where he walked all the way in before he whispered "_I demand your obedience, return ". _

It did not take long before the sound of moist skin dragged against stone reached the room, and a large basilisk was visible.

The large snake slithered across the floor until it reached the place where Tom Riddle was standing, and stopped with its eyes level to his.

It seemed an eternity had passed before they broke their gaze_. _The snake slithered away and revealed a lifeless body laying behind it – the boy. Tom Riddle walked over and kneeled beside him. There he sat until he suddenly rose to his feet and started walking back the same way he had come from.

The boy was dead before Tom Riddle reached the staircase.


	5. Chapter 5

** I do not own the rights to Harry Potter, the names and original ideas belongs to J.K Rowling.**

Chapter 5

"What if you could live forever...", Tom muttered to himself, "what if you could live in all eternity without dying from being wounded or growing old..". He was lost in his own thought and did not pay attention to the other Slytherin-students sitting around the table. Never would he recognize them as friends, or even equals, they were not his allies.

The closest to friendship between the young men sitting next to Tom was the servant-like services they so blindly performed on his behalf. They were his dogs and he was their master in the truest form of ownership there was. Their feelings would never matter to him, only himself and his own feelings were important, they were nothing but bricks that could be easily disposed of.

"No such thing as living forever", a blonde boy said very matter-of-factly, "unless your name is Nicholas Flamel, that is".

Tom did not pay the boy any attention as he suddenly rose to his feet, and walked out of the library, followed closely by his most passionate servants. There was something about Tom Riddle that made other students unwilling to approach him. An aura that radiated cruelty and malice, simultaneously his charms ensnared each and every one of them, it drew them closer to him than they wanted to be.

The young man, followed by his soldiers, marched towards the dungeons, where the Slytherin common-room was located, however, it was not the warmth of the common-room that lead them there.

Tom knew there was a way to live forever. Not only to _live_ but to go through time unharmed and without aging. This one way was the only thought occupying his mind at the moment, and the only thing he could not read about in any of the books in the library. He was certain that Professor Dumbledore knew, but it was not Professor Dumbledore he was heading towards.

There was another teacher at Hogwarts who would know, one who was not suspicious of him, one who had already trusted him with many secrets that the students should be unaware. This was the man Tom wished to see, wished to speak to, wished to lure into telling him about the dark secrets behind immortality.

The heavy dungeon-door was opened by a pudgy wizard. He was eating and a little piece of pumpkin-pie was stuck in his large moustache. Clumsily, he wiped it off and finished chewing the piece, while looking at the group in front of him. Once he had swallowed the pie, he gave out a silent burp and finally spoke.

"What can I do for you today, Mr Riddle?", he asked.  
"Well, Professor Slughorn", he started, "I was just wandering around and decided to pay you a visit". His charm was as radiant as ever and even the professor could not withdraw from it. Professor Slughorn opened his door further and showed the boys inside where they all sat down by a table as Slughorn poured each of them a cup of Butterbeer.

"So, Tom, what is on your mind, my dear boy?", Slughorn asked while he positioned himself in the chair.  
"The usual, O. and such.", Tom replied while looking away from the company. The tone of his voice implied that something as simple as exams and tests were of absolutely no worries to the young man.  
Instead of askin Tom more questions Professor Slughorn turned to the other Slytherin-boys who were much more obliged to keep a conversation going. During this time Tom carefully thought of how to approach the Professor with the matter that was on his mind, so that he could finally ask once the boys got up to leave.

"Oh, you're leaving already?", Slughorn asked a little inebriated.

The boys said their goodbyes before exiting through the door, all except Tom who lingered at the door before he finally shut it, while still in the room. He stared at the fire to his right, and he watched the green flames turn into silvery smoke that slithered up into the chimney. It took a minute or two before the Professor turned around to find his student still in his study.

"You're still here, Tom?" he asked, curious as to what was lurking behind those dark eyes. He put the lid back on to the karaff and turned his body towards the boy.

Tom was still looking at the flames and was now standing no more than two feet away from it when he gave out a sigh. He could hear the fire give out small cracks as it devoured the wood, and feel the small changes in the wind as the smoke moved the air around, but most intensely could he feel the heat against his skin as the flames reached out for more oxygen.

"Yes, excuse me Professor but I have a question".  
"Of course, my dear boy, of course", Slughorn said, "what is troubling you?".

Tom moved away from the fire, towards Professor Slughorn, and stopped a few feet away, still gazing towards the emerald flames.

"I was wondering about something I read the other day, in a book from the Restricted Section in the library...", he began, "it was something about a rare piece of magic". At this last remark, he turned his eyes from the fireplace directly to the Professor, waiting for Slughorn to reply.

"What kind of magic, Tom?".

"I can't remember exactly, but it was something called a Horcrux", Tom replied firmly.

At the word Horcrux, Slughorn's entire posture changed and there was a sense of uneasiness in his movements. He started to move around the cups and the bottle of Butterbeer and put it on a tray next to the table. He did not even look at Tom while doing all this, until he ran out of things to put away, then he spoke once more.

"This is really dark magic, Tom, I can't possible understand why you would want to know anything about Horcruxes. Vile magic, that is, vile".

Slughorn's voice was raised and his eyebrows slanted in an expression mixed with anger and fear, and the only thing he could do was to wait for the response, and hopefully the real issue behind this question. It was, after all, the wish of every teacher at Hogwarts that each and every student learned as much as they could during their time there. However, dark magic such as this was in no way acceptable at Hogwarts; not to perform neither to learn, and that was why Slughorn was afraid.

"Well, see I was reading about it and I did not really understand it", Tom began slowly, "I didn't quite understand the part of making one".

Slughorn's face was broken, it was as if all the color was washed away and all the joy that he was always filled with was vanished. For a minute he looked at the fire that was now calm and nothing but glow and black pieces of coal, and wondered whether or not he should tell him. This was after all extraordinary magic, ancient magic, an important part of their history. On the other hand it was cruel and despicable; it was the ultimate crime to perform such an act and it was nothing that he wanted to inspire anyone, less than anyone a student.

"Tom, you need to understand that this is very dark magic, very dark indeed, and...this is all hypothetical, right?", He was now looking straight into Tom's eyes as if to try to understand the boy, reach in to his mind to see if there were any intentions on his mind.

Tom had been standing quietly beside the fire, looking at nothing but Slughorn, and now he was standing straight up, something inside him had woken up now when he could sense the answers to his questions. This was the moment he had been waiting for and right now nothing was more important than the answers he needed.

"Of course, Professor, it's all hypothetical". Tom had his gaze focused in Slughorn, nothing else had ever been and would never be as important as this moment. During all this he kept his evil charm and calm, and showed absolutely nothing of the chaos and excitement he felt.

Slughorn sat down in his chair and looked down on his hands; he had made up his mind.

"To create a Horcrux one must perform a horrible act of cruelty", Slughorn said. It took a few seconds before Tom replied. His pulse was pumping blood faster through his veins than it had ever done before and he could feel the warmth as new blood rushed around in every part of his body. He knew he had to calm himself down before asking his final question or Slughorn would be able to tell that he was anticipating this moment with every particle of his body. When he could finally feel his pulse slow down he opened his mouth and asked the question to which he suspected he already knew the answer.

"What act?".

Slughorn kept his gaze on his hands and the table below him, the man felt conquered and knew with everything in him that this was not the right decision. Despite all this, he wanted to tell him, he could not resist neither did he want to. He lifted his head and looked at Tom with his green eyes as he told the young student the truth.

"Murder".


	6. Chapter 6

** I do not own the rights to Harry Potter, the names and original ideas belongs to J.K Rowling.**

Chapter 6

Everything was quiet in the old Gaunt-house. The thick layer of dust was evidence of the time that had passed since anyone had resided there. But once more would the bulding serve its original purpose and once more would a descendant of Gaunt alight.

It was almost dawn; the light was beginning to fade from the sky and the cicadas were singing outside in the tall grass. The street lay completely quiet except for the occasional breeze sweeping by, causing the leaves in the trees to rattle. And then there was the sound of a muffled explosion as a figure suddenly appeared out of thin air on the street. The figure was wearing a black cloak with a hood that covered its face.

For a minute it did nothing but stand there, as if paralyzed or waiting for something, and then it started walking towards the door. Thirteen slow steps before it reached the large wooden-door. It was not as if the figure was walking at all, it almost seemed like it was floating. From the cloak, a spark shot out, aimed at the lock of the door, and immediately the door swung open.

The hooded figure created footsteps in the dust as he entered the old house, and it almost seemed like the fresh wind that emerged through the door gave life to all the things that had been dead. The dark room was illuminated by another spark from the cloak, as it lit up an old candle. It cracked when the fire devoured the dust and the cobweb that was covering it, before it turned into a tall flame that kept a steady balance.

Then there were more sounds like the one when the figure appeared, and eight other cloaked figures entered the house. Once they saw that the house was not empty, they took off their hoods.

The first figure was a woman; short and skinny with big, frizzy hair who looked absolutely deranged with long fingernails and staring, hungry eyes. It almost appeared as if she was born from the definition of demented.

After her came a tall man who revealed a long mane of the purest white shade, and a long walking-stick. He had a sense of pride about him, as though nothing could pull him down from the peak upon which his high and mighty self was placed.

Eleven more came forth, all of them men who, as soon as they saw the figure inside the house, took off their hoods to reveal their faces. They all gathered around the little table in the room and waited for the dark figure to join them. When he did, he too, took off his hood to reveal his face, only, he did not look anything like the people standing in front of him.

All the handsome features Tom Riddle's face had once bore were now gone; the long nose looked as if it had fallen off and the former warmth of his eyes were filled with malice and slanted like the ones of a snake. His skin made him look fragile since it appeared to be transparent, and his fingers had been altered to look long and slender. The charms that once inhabited the body of a young man were vanished and superseded by the utmost cruelty.

"Things have not been performed accordingly", Tom said. The voice that used to be soft and intoxicating had been turned into a mere whisper, a hiss. He spoke without so much as lifting his gaze from his hand, he knew that they were listening intently to every word he said.

The ragged woman was the first one to speak. Once she opened her mouth she revealed years of ignoring her appearance; it only made her look even more deranged.

"I'm sorry, My Lord, I've failed you miserably, I only live to serve you". She was leaning so far towards Tom as she could, like a dog seeks forgiveness from its master. Her voice was desperate and this was not what Tom wanted, he wanted soldiers; a weapon. Something he could use in his war.

"Miss Lestrange is right, My Lord Voldemort, we did fail you, and it won't happen again". A man from the back of the room came forth to plead and ask for forgiveness. Tom Riddle was not known to these people, to them Lord Voldemort was the only one that existed. A name that would put fear in all of the world once he had become the greatest, true leader.

The patience he had with these people, he thought, was more than they deserved, more than he was willing to give them. He did not care for them the way he cared for himself, they were nothing more than means to achieve his goal.

Two minutes passed before Tom began speaking again, only this time, the voice was more than a hiss. This vermin in front of him had failed to perform the task he had ordered them to, therefore he did not see any other reason to keep the one responsible for this mishap.

"Who is accountable?", he asked sedately.

This one question sent a shiver throughout the entire room, and caused each and every of the followers in front of him to look down. They all knew what was coming, but there was never any way of knowing if it would result in punishment or another chance. Where the latter was the preferred prize.

A long time went before any of them made a single sound, even longer before there was any movement. The movement came from a young man on Tom's right side who took a small step forward.

Before he had even set his foot down to take his step forward, there was a green flash of light and the man dropped dead. There were sighs of terror coming from all around the table; the only one still smiling was Bellatrix Lestrange. Her eyes were fixed on Tom and she looked as if she was ready to jump up into his arms.

There was only silence in the room.

"There are more important matters to be discussed", Tom started, his voice was back at being a hiss, "the Ministry of Magic will fall, they will no longer be the authority. Their reign is over, I will be the new master".

Without another word, Tom disapparated out of the room, leaving his followers behind in the dust and darkness of the Gaunt-house.


	7. Chapter 7

** I do not own the rights to Harry Potter, the names and original ideas belongs to J.K Rowling.**

Chapter 7

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…And the Dark Lord will mark him as equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies_ "

~ Sybill Trelawney

Tonight was the night when the deed would be done. The Fortune-teller had been very clear that a boy would be born in late July, a boy that could destroy him and jeopardize everything he had worked for. It was of the utmost importance that this threat was eliminated at all costs.

A large snake slithered by his left leg, and continued up on the armrest of the chair Tom was sitting on, and stopped when it reached the neck of its master. It looked into Tom's eyes and immediately understood what his plans were and what that meant for her. She was the closest thing to an equal he had ever had, she was a part of him, just as indestructible and majestic as he was.

"Nagini", Tom whispered, "it is time for us to go..". He said this with his gaze forward, imagining how the world would become his after tonight, how it would be impossible to penetrate his walls. Nagini gave out a hiss and slithered back down onto the floor, where she positioned herself in the same calm, arrogant manners of a cat.

There was a quiet thud coming from the other side of the door, and soon after the sound, the door opened and a short, hefty man entered. He was dressed in a striped suit that showed off his penguin-like shape. Chunks of hair was missing from his head and he had big, round eyes that made him look constantly hungry. On top of all this he had large front teeth that gave him the look of a rodent. But there was another significant feature on this man that was meaningful; on his left hand a finger was missing.

The man approached Tom and kneeled when he was three feet away from the chair.

"My Lord Voldemort, I've sent for the Death Eaters, your followers should be here any minute", the man said, while still kneeling.

"Wormtail, you have been most loyal in the matter of the prophecy", Tom responded.

These words were words of affection to Wormtail, at the same time as they were nothing more but facts to Tom. Wormtail was just another one in the lines of followers, foot-soldiers, an asset, to him.

But his mind was not on the significance of his followers, but on the boy that he was going to destroy tonight.

"Thank you, My Lord, thank you", Wormtail said teary-eyed,"the boy will be there tonight, I'm sure of it". Tom did not even glance at Wormtail. He knew that the boy would be there, he knew that there would be some kind of resistance, and he knew he would succeed. There was no question of his powers or what he could do with them, it was well-known that he was powerful and that his powers were greatly increasing every day that passed.

Wormtail left the room after a long time of Tom ignoring him. He was thinking back on situations, memories that had led up to this moment; the moment when he would finally be The Lord. He would not only become the most powerful ruler, but also the ultimate lethal weapon.

The work of finding the boy had been complicated by the fact that there were actually two boys to whom the prophecy could refer. Their families had both tried to overthrow him without succeeding, and both families had a boy due to be born in the end of July. However, it was of importance to him that one of the boys was a half-blood. It made him a more worthy opponent since he, himself, was of the same heritage, it was also according to his plans to leave all the pure-bloods alive and kill everyone and anyone who did not belong to the real and pure wizarding world.

He could hear the church-clock chime in the far distance and he knew that what he needed to do, needed to be done now. The chair gave out a small creek when he lifted himself from it, and there was another hiss coming from the snake that was still laying on the floor. Tom raised one hand and Nagini slithered up and coiled around his arm. Then there was a thud and the room was empty.

A split second later Tom found himself on a dark street. To his left there was a sign reading "Godric's Hollow". He began walking down the graveyard to where he knew the family was hiding. All around him he heard cheers of joy and occasionally singing, coming from the houses, it was New Year's Eve and people were celebrating all around England. The celebrations, however, did not matter to him, the only celebration he would indulge in was the moment after the kill when everything would be over and nothing would ever stand in his way again.

He continued out from the graveyard and walked on a little path towards the house at the end of the street. His steps were resolute and he was walking in a proud manner with his back straight and eyes gazing forward.

There it was; the house, all lit up and inviting, inviting him to enter. He thought of how this pathetic boy would never grow up to know anything, how he did not know anything now, and somehow that justified his mission greatly. Someone who does not yet feel will not recognize pain or horror.

He had reached the little gate was made of dark iron and the hinges made noises as it swung open for him. The garden was covered in snow but he did not leave any footprints behind. Five feet away from the big oak-door he raised his arm from the cloak, he was holding a yew-wand in his hand; stretching it towards the door. Without a sound the door opened slowly and the warmth of the house hit him as he kept walking.

From inside the house came the smell of roast-beef and pumpkin-pie, and laughter could be heard from upstairs. It was a woman's laughter, filled with heart-warming love and affection, something, or rather someone, that she cared for had caused her to produce the sound.

Seconds after the woman finished off laughing, there was a man's voice saying something in a hushed voice and then he heard it... The loud chuckle from a baby; the boy.

The door shut silently behind Tom, and he managed to take a few steps forward before a man appeared at the top of the stairs. There was an explosion of colors as spells and hexes protruded from both their wands. The man upstairs were holding on to his wand with both hands, fighting with everything he had, but he was so much weaker than Tom was. Another series of colors emerged as the wands sent out another wave of magic.

Tom could feel the power from the other decrease as he sent a last powerful wave at the same time as yelling the unforgivable words.

"AVADA KEDAVRA".

The man landed on his back, lifeless. It all became quiet for a second before the sobbing of the woman became audible. With the hunger of a mad man; Tom went up the stairs and followed the sounds he heard. In a well-lit room he found them; a woman holding on to her baby while sobbing and repeating the same words over and over again.

"Please, don't kill Harry, anything but Harry...".

She was beautiful, very unlike the pictures he had seen of his own mother. However, she was a mudblood – dirty, so she needed to die.

"Don't kill him, have mercy, please don't kill Harry..", she cried, but in vain. The Dark Lord's hand was raised and with his eyes fixed on her he said the same words he had told her husband. She fell to the ground and dropped her son on the floor. Her red hair looked like fire where she lay with her face turned to the scene. A tear fell from her eye down to the carpet, it made her look like she was only sleeping, but no one survived from the killing curse.

Tom looked at her corpse for another minute before he turned to the boy; the one he had come for – his mission. For a split second all the sounds around him became enhanced and clear. He could hear a dog howl in the distance, a house down the street where they were still singing and celebrating. He could hear the sounds of the wind hitting the windows and the snow hitting the ground. He could hear the boy breathing slowly. The little baby was not crying or panting or showing any signs of fright. He just looked straight at Tom with his brown eyes, calmness and incomprehension.

This was the boy that was his possible, future threat? Was it really this baby that would one day be the one to perhaps kill him? There was nothing in this boy that made him think twice about what he was going to do. For Tom this was nothing but another obstacle to overcome, and he would overcome it now...

Tom raised his hand; he was going to make short work of this. With his eyes staring into the boy's eyes and the boy staring back, he cast the final spell.

Everything was bright. He could not hear his voice or see his body, it was as if he was invisible, as if he _was_ the light itself. He tried moving, but there was nothing to move, he could not feel his limbs or even breath, but somehow he did not need to breath. For the first time in his life he felt powerless and empty, as if he had been drained of everything he possessed, like he had been stripped of himself.

This moment lasted less than a microsecond, and then it was over. All of these feelings had he felt in that short time, it had felt like an eternity. But now everything was black. Darkness overcame him and shaped him into the creature he now was, this was the color of his soul, the being he had been turned into.

He was not dead. Neither was he alive, he was not even a thing. He was a soul, a being made of air and energy, intangible. There was only one word existing in his being, a name that would forever be branded into him. The name of a boy that had defeated him before he could speak or think, a boy that would grow up to become a threat to him. A boy that could possibly kill him.

"_Harry Potter..."_


End file.
